Seeing Light (The Seraphina Parrish Trilogy) (19 page)

::33::
Mona’s House

As I jump from the bell tower, the hem of my long dress flips over my head in a whoosh, blocking my eyes just as the wormhole opens up, allowing me to skip through time. When entered vertically, the tube becomes a slide.

I land in Mona’s townhome in Chicago, just a few blocks from the Academy. The real Bishop and Sera pace the living area. When they see me, they rush forward and overwhelm me with hugs.

“You’re brilliant, sending Hologram Turner to release us so we could sneak out of the Academy,” Bishop says proudly.

“Wouldn’t have been able to do it without him, and that’s only because you took the time to have him made.” I touch Bishop’s arm to thank him again for giving us just this small piece of Turner, even if I’m unsure now if the real one exists.

“Are you okay?” I ask Bishop who looks unusually frazzled.

“They tortured me with electric shocks. That was my punishment for fighting against them.” He looks down.

“Oh no.” I throw my arms around him, pulling him into a quick hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m okay,” he says before stepping back. “I mean, I’m better now that we’re here.”

“Where’s Hologram Turner?” Sam asks.

“He’s on his way in Animate form, but he’s going to meet us elsewhere, in a more secure place.”

“I don’t much like being here without Mum,” Bishop says, looking around.

“I know what you mean.” Without Mona’s warm voice and comforting personality filling the house as she tidied, attempted to cook, or worked on her colorful glass mosaic art projects, it seems hollow and cold. “The good news is that we have everything we need to go back and change the past and set all of Nocturna free. Your family will be saved soon. I promise.”

“Everything but the Oaths tomorrow. How will you sneak into the Grand Lodge without the Grand Master knowing? You won’t be able to complete the prophecy without the
transition and getting anointed,” Sam reminds me.

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead, I just knew we needed to rescue you. Do you have any idea what the Grand Master had planned for me if I brought him the crown?” This is the loose thread that nags at me; I still have no idea what it is that makes him live so long, what he needed from me that no one else can do.

“I have no clue,” Sam says with regret. She approaches and takes the crown from my hand. Instantly her eyes spark with admiration for the powerful relic. I’m familiar with the look because I’ve been drawn to it as well, in much the same hypnotic way. She traces a finger over the shapes of the gems, scorpions, wings, and eyes with an intent smile. With her Seeing abilities, like mine, she can’t help but feel the influence of the powerful relic, or control the almost desperate need to view its life path. “The pieces are coming together. It’s almost done.”

I nod, feeling a little bereft after handing over the crown. “I’m going to go find some clothes to wear and change out of this dress. If there’s anything you guys think you need, I would load up with supplies. We’re going undercover for possibly the next several days.”

Everyone agrees, and we go our separate ways. I run upstairs, heading for Mona’s bedroom. Once inside her doorway, I shiver a little; it feels weird to be here without her. Uncharacteristically, the sheets on her bed are rumpled and unmade. I drift to her bedside table and pick up a cup of cold tea. Some liquid has evaporated, and a dark brown ring is left behind. It’s as though Mona received a phone call in the middle of the night, perhaps from Bishop’s dad, warning her that Charlotte had shown signs of becoming a Wanderer. In a state of panic, Mona jumped out of bed, quickly packed a bag, dressed, and fled Chicago for London to pick up Charlotte and hide her away from the Society.

Without realizing, I zone out, staring across the room, seeing the events in my mind, all from holding the teacup in my hand. I had actually
seen
the life path of the teacup and what transpired the night Mona left town and ultimately ended up in Nocturna.

I can’t exactly say that I blame her for wanting to leave, for wanting Charlotte to have a different kind of life. Especially knowing what she does about how the Society functions. She wouldn’t want that for her own children, and it appears that she didn’t have a choice in the matter with Turner and Bishop. She lost control of them to the Society a long time ago.

“Did you find what you needed?” Sam pops her head in the room.

“Yeah.” I give myself a little shake, refocusing on why we’re here. She leaves without a word and I head for Mona’s closet, pulling out a pair of long jeans and the smallest shirt and jacket I can find.

When I finish, I head back down the stairs in a robe, jeans in hand. I find my team in the kitchen. Bishop’s loading a backpack with supplies while Sam ties off a Popsicle stick splint for her fingers.

I catch her eye and frown at her, guilt slamming into me at seeing her injuries again. “We should go to the hospital. A doctor should really set those for you.”

“The Society will only look for us there. Besides,” she adds with a wry smile, “Dr. Bishop helped pull them straight and tape them.”

“Yes, you missed the fun.” He grimaces, and I can only imagine the feeling of the broken bones between his fingers, and Sam’s agonized reaction when he realigned them.

“I’ve read a few medical and first aid books.” He taps his head. “At least our perfect memory is good for something.”

Walking past, I nudge him with my shoulder. “You’re such a Boy Scout. Thank goodness you’re around.” I zero in on the kitchen junk drawer, and paw through it until I find a pair of shears.

“So, where do we go now?” Sam asks.

“I know a place,” I say as I scrunch up my nose. “It won’t be great, but we’ll have shelter, and then we can regroup and plan for tomorrow. We’ll need three Wandering compasses to travel to Gibeon. Do you think Mona has any here?”

“I’m sure she does with the size of her relic collection. I’ll go check.” Bishop exits the kitchen, leaving Sam and me alone.

I wait until he’s out of earshot. “I wanted to ask you something, Sam.” I look down at the jeans, grasp the scissors in my hand, and begin cutting off some of the length of the legs. “Do you think there’s any way that Turner’s still alive?”

“Why would you ask that?” She shifts uneasily and crosses her arms.

“I ran into Drake and some members of the Underground when I traveled to find the crown. In passing, he mentioned that Turner and Cece are still alive.”

“In passing?” She laughs. “You make it sound like you ran into him at the supermarket.”

“Just answer the question. I’m serious.” I look at her, meeting her gaze, and see a stirring of interest in her eyes, mingled with a touch of hope. The same questions are probably rolling around her head like they have mine since I first heard. Could he still be alive? Is it possible?

“I don’t think so. No,” she says.

The breath I’d been holding squeaked out on a disappointed sigh. “You’re right. He can’t be.” He’s really, truly gone. There’s no way he’s alive. How can I be so stupid to hope for the impossible? I can’t keep letting my heart do this, so I let go of my thoughts, locking them away in a deep compartment in my mind.

“You think he’s alive?” Bishop asks from behind us.

My heart skips a beat as we turn to see him standing in the kitchen doorway, black fabric draped in his arms.

“N-no,” I stutter. “I mean, I’m just being stupid. Drake was totally trying to trick me when I Wandered back to find the crown. He probably wanted the relic or something.” After all, the leader of the Underground gang has never given me any reason to trust him.

“Oh,” Bishop says as his posture deflates. “That makes more sense.”

“What do you have there?” I point to his arms, wanting—no, needing—to change the subject.

“Found exactly what we need. Several Wandering compasses so we can sneak into Gibeon for the Oaths. But I also found a few black cloaks and Society uniforms. These must have been Mum’s when she was younger. They’re not exactly the same as ours now, but they’re close enough that no one will notice the difference,” Bishop explains as he places everything on the counter.

Pinching the shoulders, I pick up the Society uniform, a military-style fitted gray jacket with black piping, leather shoulder pads, and a metal emblem on the upper arm, with matching gray slacks.

“These will definitely work,” I say.

Bishop grunts with relief. “Great, let’s pack and get out of here.”

::34::
The Mark

It’s dark by the time I break into Xavier’s garage. I’ve only been here once, the night I came with Macey to watch his band play last semester. Those carefree days seem like a lifetime ago now.

“Stay here for a sec,” I ask of Sam and Bishop as I stumble across the room, climb over several boxes to reach a window, and close the heavy curtains. When I peek around them, lights in the main house across the yard pop on. Silhouettes are shadowed in the illumination of an upstairs room—Xavier’s parents. They can’t know that we’re here. They may be Wanderers themselves and loyal to the Society. I have no idea, but we’ll have to be careful either way.

Letting the curtain fall closed, completely darkening the room, I navigate back to the door and flip on the light. White fluorescent tubes buzz, hanging between the open rafters.

“Come in,” I say, waving them inside.

“Lovely.” Sam walks in and drops a bag of supplies on the floor, causing a circular plume of dust to explode. She scrunches her nose and sneezes.

“It’s not pretty, but it has everything we need to survive the night. Couches, refrigerator, and bathroom.” I point around the room.

“And camping equipment,” Bishop says, removing two sleeping bags hanging from a nail on a wooden stud.

“Oh my God! What was that?” Sam screams as a mouse zigzags across her feet. She covers her mouth and jumps on top of the couch.

“Shh! Sam, no one can know we’re here, so you’re going to have to suck it up.” I wave angrily at her, urging her to be quiet.

“There’s another one!” she screeches, flapping her arms wildly.

“No, it’s not.” I bend down and scoop up my pet. “It’s just the Animate.” I stand and place him on top of a stack of old paint buckets.

When the scorpion is oriented, a beam of light shoots from his crystal face across the room. Hologram Turner appears in a haze of particles and steps forward.

Sam steps down from the couch and pulls him into an embrace. “Thank you. You saved our lives.”

Bishop extends his arm and he and Hologram Turner shake hands, but then fall into a manly guy embrace that involves some heavy-handed pats on the back. “Thank you, brother. I’m in your debt.”

“I’m glad you’re all safe,” Hologram Turner says and turns to look at me.

“It took you forever,” I say with a frown. “I was starting to worry.”

“I had some things to take care of before leaving.”

“You want to elaborate?”

“Let’s just say that your lovely speech inspired me.” He quirks his lip into a half smile, and I know he’s up to something. “So now what?” He looks around the room.

“We should try to make ourselves at home here, strategize, and get a good night’s sleep. We have a big day ahead of us,” I say.

“Agreed,” Bishop adds.

I set my bag down and shoo Sam out of the way. She moves and perches on a single high stool sitting next to a stack of dusty boxes, and rests her head on the palm of her uninjured hand. I feel bad that I can’t do more, that I hadn’t done a better job of protecting her from the Grand Master, but I’ll do everything I can to make it up to her, to make everything better.

With Bishop and Turner’s help, we unfold the couch,
which converts into a bed.

“Can you hand me those sleeping bags?”

Bishop tosses them to me, and I drop them on the mattress. I grab one and unroll it while Hologram Turner works on the other. “If we zip both of them together, we can make one huge sleeping bag. We’ll huddle in them together,” I suggest.

“Yes, I’m afraid we’re going to have to, considering the draft.” Bishop nods toward the curtain, which moves slightly even though the window is closed.

My body instantly shivers, and when I look around, I realize that this probably isn’t the best place for us all to recoup. I wish I could have done better on that too.

“Sam, why don’t you go to bed. You look exhausted,” I say after the sleeping bags are zipped together.

Without a word, she kicks off her shoes and crawls inside, then curls up into a ball, shifting to and fro as she tries to make herself comfortable. “It’s just like home, except for the metal pole of the bed frame sticking in my back.” She looks at me with a weak smile.

“Only the best for you,” I joke, patting her on the leg, but she’s already closed her eyes. She should be asleep in minutes.

Bishop cuts the overhead lights and flicks on the switch of a camping lantern. He walks forward, settling the lamp on an end table, and falls into a chair with a sigh. “I ripped a map of Gibeon out of one of Mum’s books. It’s in my bag.” He places a hand over his eyes and leans on his elbow.

I retrieve it and settle on a low stool at the coffee table, smooth the map down, and move the light closer so I can see.

Hologram Turner nudges a drowsy Bishop with his foot. “Wake up, brother.”

“Leave him alone, he’s tired,” I scold.

“Yes, some of us have to sleep.” Bishop rolls over and tucks his hands under his cheek.

Hologram Turner sits down and leans in to inspect the map.

“The students will be meeting here, in this area.” Turner circles a plaza on the south side of the city with his finger. “Then they’ll march in the parade and move down Tanis Street, across the Mermaid’s Bridge, and into the Grand Lodge for the Oaths and anointing.”

“How do you know that?”

“Let’s just say that being in this form”—he jerks his chin at the scorpion on my shoulder—“allows me entrance to restricted places where I can hear some top-secret things.”

“I’ve wondered where you go when you’re not with me.” I smile. “Figures that you’d use it to snoop. I would have thought you’d sneak into the bath while I shower.”

“Who says I haven’t?”

“You didn’t!” I say too loudly, and Sam and Bishop shush me.

Hologram Turner nudges my arm. “Of course not. Give me some credit.”

“Stop flirting and get serious.” I turn my attention back to the map.

He leans in and whispers, “You started it.” He blows on my ear, and I smack him in the shoulder.

“Okay, I think that if I sneak into the plaza while students line up for the parade, I’ll have the best chance of fitting in. No one will really be able to see me within the hood of the cape. I’ll pull it low and—”

Sharp pains shoot down my spine, sending my body into an eruption of spasms.

“Sera?” Hologram Turner lunges forward.

I can’t respond because I fall headfirst into the dusty shag carpet, screaming for dear life. My various body parts jolt in uncontrollable fits, and I hit my head on the table, the chair, and anything else nearby. Though my eyes burn with irritation, I can still make out three figures sitting me upright. They’re talking, maybe asking me questions, but I can’t focus on their words through the agony. Bolts of electricity shoot through my body, crawling over my skin, reaching into every cell, extracting the life from me, forcing that focused energy down my spine. Muscles contract until they’re rigid; arms, legs, digits, and neck crank into painfully awkward positions, and then the shivering begins.

I have the sensation of being lifted from the ground and carried, and after several moments, there’s finally relief. Cold water rushes over my body, and I grab at the nearest thing, which I suspect is Bishop. Droplets run over my eyes, and I blink the grogginess away until I clearly see Hologram Turner and Sam across from me, crammed into the small bathroom of the garage. They look worried and scared.

Bishop clutches me when I shudder again. “What happened?” I mumble as my teeth chatter.

He ignores me and rests the back of his free hand on my cheek as he speaks over his shoulder. “Her color’s returned and her temperature is falling. The cool shower worked. Good thinking, Sam.”

He reaches past me, turning off the faucet, but I’m still shuddering in pain. “Here.” Hologram Turner hands Bishop a camping blanket. He wraps me like a burrito and leads me out of the shower stall, back into the garage. They gently settle me on the chair and gather around.

“Sera, can you hear us?” I give them a strange look because I thought I asked them a question, but they never answered. Maybe I just imagined that I’d spoken.

“Sera?” Hologram Turner asks. He places his hand on my soaked arm but the electricity from him sends a shock through my body, and I scream again.

“What happened?” I mumble and pull the blanket tighter. I shift in the chair and tilt my head from side to side, trying to relax my aching muscles.

“I think you were going through some kind of transition,” Sam says, sitting on the coffee table, facing me. “How do you feel now? Are you still burning?”

“Burning?” I ask numbly.

“You kept saying it burns, over and over. That’s why we took you into the cool shower. Your skin was burning up.”

“You were delirious,” Hologram Turner explains.

“I don’t remember.” I squirm, feeling uncomfortable, thinking of a similar feeling on the day Dr. Shockey tortured me, which leads me to my next thought. “It’s the mark, I’ve been marked!” Still shivering, I jump from my seat and run back to the bathroom, dripping water all over the floor. I don’t have to think about where the mark is because I know from the pain; it radiates from my spinal column. I lift my wet shirt over my head, exposing my bra, and turn around, trying to see my back in the reflection of the full-length mirror behind the bathroom door. I catch a glimpse, just a shimmer of color in the dim light.

“It’s me, let me in.” Sam pushes on the door.

“It’s there. It’s really happening. It’s all true.” The true weight of what I’ll be doing settles on my shoulders. Up until this moment, I hadn’t known for sure if the prophecy could truly be real.

“Turn around. Let me see.”

I turn around and she adjusts me in the low light, and I understand what she’s doing. The light must hit the mark a certain way in order to be seen. It’s iridescent, like mother of pearl, varnished over my skin in the form of a tattoo.

“It’s here.” She runs a finger down the length of my spine. “It starts on your neck at your hairline and runs down the center of your back.”

“But what is it? What is the mark?” I look over my shoulder, trying to catch another glimpse in the mirror.

Sam leans toward my back, mumbling as she inspects it more closely. “It’s writing, looks ancient. Resembles Egyptian but it’s not. It’s more sophisticated in style. Different.”

“What do you think it says?”

“I have no clue.”

“Sera.” Bishop knocks on the door. “Are you okay in there?”

“Fine, hold on.” I drape the soggy shirt over my front, covering my chest, open the door, and walk out. Sam follows.

“Well?” Hologram Turner asks.

I turn around and the group steps closer. Sam rushes to the table and grabs the lantern. She returns and lifts it, illuminating my back, which warms my skin.

“Do you have any idea what it says?” Sam asks Bishop.

“Give me a second.” Bishop pauses. “Sam, stand over there with the lantern so that it hits the mark the correct way.”

She shuffles around slowly, moving the lantern. My shadow casts darkly on the floor, wavering with each new position she takes.

“Stop, right there. Now, don’t move.” Bishop stands directly behind me and pushes my hair over my shoulder. He’s standing so close I can feel his breath on my bare skin. He touches a fingertip to the mark and begins to read.